


Gain

by DonRicci



Category: Dresden Files - All Media Types, Dresden Files - Jim Butcher
Genre: Dubious Consent, M/M, Verging on non-con, Watersports
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-21
Updated: 2011-12-21
Packaged: 2017-10-27 17:11:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,004
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/298130
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DonRicci/pseuds/DonRicci
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He still doesn't understand what he got out of it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Gain

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the prompt "Harry/Marcone, Watersports"

While saving the world is a great thing to do, getting stuck in a cell by the Sidhe is occasionally an unfortunate side effect. I had been stuck in a cell with John Marcone, who was sitting on the small bench that was provided, staring at me.

I was pacing urgently, adding a little bounce to my step on every turn.

Another thing about saving the world... You don't get much of a chance for bathroom breaks.

Which can be unfortunate when you're trapped in a cell without a bathroom for most of the foreseeable future.

That cola had been a really bad idea.

I couldn't tell if the look on Marconi's face was amusement, annoyance, or just indifference. I bounced again.

"Why d'ya reckon we're in here?" I asked, trying to find something to adequately distract me from my almost painful need to use the bathroom, "And when will we get out?"

He shrugged, "I think we're supposed to get something out of this. Knowing the Sidhe that could be anything. Can you get us out of here when that guard leaves?"

"I could probably use magic to unlock the door," I said reluctantly, "Except..." I didn't want to, but it seemed that I would have to share my current state with Marcone.

"Except? Except what, Mr. Dresden?"

"Well, I need to be able to concentrate to do that, and right now I can't."

"Why ever not?" Marcone asked, managing to sound almost innocent.

"Because I have to pee, goddammit!" I said loudly, turning to face the wall, face away from Marcone, away from humiliation. I clenched my teeth as my overfull bladder sent another twinge of pain through me.

Marcone made a soft sound of acknowledgement. I just grit my teeth against the hot tears in my eyes, because I'm a man, and men don't cry, and it hurt goddammit!

"We can't have that," Hell's bells how did he move so fast?

His body was pressed against mine, and I could feel his hot breath against the back of my neck. I could also feel his erection, pressed against my back. I felt apprehensive about that, just a bit.

"We're not getting anywhere with you in this state," he said softly and, coming from Marcone, that tone of voice was fairly creepy.

"What do you plan to do about it?" My voice was completely steady; anyone who says different may mysteriously vanish.

His hand crept around my body and lifted up the hem of my shirt, allowing the tips of his fingers to slide under the edge of my jeans and press in lightly.

The pressure of his fingers was excruciating, and I wondered, apparently aloud, what he was trying to achieve.

"Why, Harry," he explained as if he was talking to a slow child, "I'm trying to get us out of here."

His answer was accompanied by a tap of his index finger, which sent a sharp jolt of white-hot pain through my body.

I yelped and pressed backward, trying to find a path away from his hand. Unfortunately, that pressed me right up against his erection, and he increased the pressure of his fingers slightly, rubbing himself against me.

"This is crazy!" I defended weakly, "I can't- I'm not- Marcone…"

"Oh, you will. You can, and you will," he whispered against my ear.

"I'm not going to!" I was having some serious doubts about my weak protests.

"Harry, I've told you," that patient voice again, "We aren't going to get out of here with you in this state."

"Don't call me Harry!"

His hips continued moving, and the pressure of his fingers increased again. I whimpered (it was a manly whimper, dammit!) and squeezed my legs together, combating his efforts.

"Harry…" He said, in a tone I was pretty sure was meant to be a warning, padded with a front of fake soothing. He slid a thigh between my legs, forcing them apart and making it all that harder to hold on to my last shred of dignity.

I was reaching new levels of hatred for the universe.

His free hand made it's way around my body as well, grabbing my thigh and holding it in place, ensuring my legs stayed apart.

He pressed down sharply, and I doubled over, slamming my hands against the wall. Every muscle in my body clenched in a valiant effort to maintain control. It just wasn't enough.

The pressure of his fingers overwhelmed me, and the contents of my bladder escaped. My face flamed under cold sweat, and I kept my hands braced against the wall. The release was overwhelming, the pain of holding on for so long overshadowed by the relief of letting go.

I was vaguely aware of the hot urine spreading across the front of my jeans and streaming down my leg, but at least it wasn't in my bladder anymore. I was also constantly aware of the somehow cool (but at the same time warm) fingertips still pressed into my sore abdomen.

When I finally got my bladder back under control, the cell door was being unlocked.

"Yeah, now they let me out!" I said, exasperated.

"You were meant to gain something from the experience," the Sidhe opened the door, "I believe you have."

I turned to Marcone, who was straightening his pants, calm as ever. I also became aware that the back of my jeans was wet as well, which meant Marcone had come at some point during the ordeal.

I was now highly aware of the now cold urine soaking my right pants leg and burning slightly on my skin as the harsh material clung to the poor limb it was currently encasing. It made walking very uncomfortable, and I attempted to glare at Marcone, "I hope you're happy you sick bastard."

"I'm very happy, Mr. Dresden."

"I really didn't get anything out of that, nothing at all, zero, zip, nada."

"Oh, but I did," Marcone exited the cell coolly.

I followed, feeling slightly embarrassed and extremely violated.


End file.
